


Cockiness

by catholicschoolgirl



Series: The Loveeee Song Series [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Rihanna (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catholicschoolgirl/pseuds/catholicschoolgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Rihanna hook up after the VMA's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cockiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handcversbruise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handcversbruise/gifts).



> Dedicated to Frida, who basically told me to go home and write her Riharry. Not the plot you asked for but #sorrynotsorry.
> 
> Also this just kind of ends because I need to go to work tomorrow and am very sleepy. Clearly untrue, don't link to Rihanna or 1D or people affiliated with either, the Fourth Wall is a good thing, etc.

Harry almost wanted to pinch himself and make sure this was real. There was no way that this was his life now, no way that he was standing in the middle of this palatial hotel room, the low hum of some R&B track on in the background as Rihanna sunk to her knees, pulled his cock out, and took him in her mouth.

Everything had moved pretty quickly today. A few more interviews, including one with a fan that had won some contest, and then getting ready for the VMA's and heading across the bridge to Brooklyn. Then the blur of red carpet interviews with some personalities that he never could keep a track of, shuttling into Barclays, and trying to choke down his jealousy as Louis grabbed a beer and gloated about it for fucking ever. But it was okay, since he had a pack of gum in his pocket and one of their team had packed him an orange and banana in a little Ziplock baggie, and he got a hug from Selena Gomez, and was seated far enough away from Taylor that he could pretend like he wasn't watching her and obsessively texting her every move to Nick - “Did you see that? She called me out on national television again.” They got booed a bit when they won their award, but again that was fine because he was able to get a drunken pep talk from Lady Gaga – she kind of smelled like sweat, Ketel One, and money – and discretely eye her tits and ass a bit when they stood for a few pictures, and then by the time he was back at his seat, someone was asking for a picture with him and Rihanna, who considerably perked up at the request, especially considering that she had been vacillating between boredom and annoyance all night.

Harry had always had a bit of a thing for Rihanna, because he was a human with a pulse and she had thighs that he thought would look great around his head, but after last year when they were doing shows and promo in Australia, and he had been informed that he was Rihanna's favorite in One Direction, his attraction shot up by a thousandfold. He looked up manips of himself with Rihanna on Tumblr, wanked to the music video for Rude Boy an obscene number of times, and after the club fight between Drake and Chris Brown, Harry even entertained a few elaborate fantasies where Drake and Chris beat the shit out of each other while Harry ate Rihanna out in the VIP. He had only sort of encountered her in passing before, though, and had been trying not to stare a hole into her head all night because looking at her only made him think of Stay and her sitting around being sexy in a bathtub and that would probably cause an unfortunate situation in his trousers. But then she turned around and smiled at him, beckoning for him to come closer as the photographer snapped a few pictures. Rihanna waved the photographer away, but placed a hand over Harry's on the back of her seat.

“You smell really good,” Rihanna said. “I appreciate that in a man.”

“Um. Thanks? It's probably my shampoo.”

Rihanna grinned. “You're cute. We should hang out. Preferably after this. And ideally without clothes.”

Harry couldn't argue with logic like that. “I'll ask my management what I can do.”

“Don't ask, love – just do it,” Rihanna said, as the show started back up from commercial break. “Give me your phone, I know you've been on it all night.” Harry handed it over, and Rihanna dialed a few quick digits, placing a phone call to herself and then hanging up. “Give me a text, and I'll tell you where to have them drop you off.”

Which was how Harry ended up at Rihanna's hotel room a few hours later. Although “hotel room” was a really inaccurate description – she had a huge suite, and most of her people were in the main room, blasting A$AP Rocky and drinking Hennessy. It was a totally different scene than what Harry was used to, but someone helpfully gestured to where Rihanna was lazily smoking a blunt on the other side of the room, lounging in an oversized T-shirt and pajama bottoms. Rihanna lit up at the sight of Harry as he approached, her eyes doing a long scan up and down his body, and she smirked, grabbing his hand and passing off the blunt to someone else in her entourage. She pulled him into the master bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind them.

“Undress now,” she commanded as she turned and walked to the bed in the middle of the huge space, sitting at the foot of it.

“Here?” Harry asked, still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Yeah, there,” she replied. Harry smirked and shrugged of his blazer, throwing it at Rihanna on the bed. She caught it deftly and held it across her lap as Harry began unbuttoning his shirt. “Slower,” she ordered, and Harry stilled his hands, trying to tease but he could already feel himself straining against the buttons on his jeans, the intensity of her gaze and the complete surrealism of the situation making him hot. He finally reached the last button, and peeled the shirt off his body, throwing it on the floor at Rihanna's feet. She picked it up, holding the fabric between her expertly manicured fingers, and smiled sweetly.

“We match,” she murmured, and took her own top off, gesturing at the tattoo underneath her breasts.

Harry found himself humming in agreement, transfixed by the sight of Rihanna topless in front of him, her breasts everything he had wanked over and fantasized about. Harry just wanted to get his hands and mouth around them, wanted to just make her moan and shake and come.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head and smiling almost ruefully. “Take your pants off, I need to see what I'm working with.” Harry nodded, and unbuttoned his fly. Rihanna tsked as he went to pull the jeans all the way down, instead quirking an eyebrow up. “You don't wear underwear?”

“I didn't tonight, no,” Harry answered slowly.

“Naughty boy,” Rihanna said, and she pulled down her own pajama bottoms. “I didn't either.”

And just like that, Rihanna was standing in front of Harry, pulling him in for a kiss, and the angle was all wrong and Harry wasn't sure if he was allowed to put his hands in her hair, so he just kind of wrapped his hands around her back and then let his fingers settle around her waist, and oh shit, he had a Fucking Naked Rihanna (and yes that deserved to be in all caps) kissing him, biting his lip before turning to his neck, and sucking a bruise as her fingers swirled through his hair.

“You should ink my name right here,” she muttered as she licked over the love bite.

“I will if you keep doing that,” Harry answered and Rihanna laughed, dragging her fingernails along the side of Harry's ribcage and then sinking to her knees. “No more kissing, then?” Harry asked, frowning a bit at where Rihanna was kneeling in front of him, her eyes intently eying his crotch. She spared him an unamused glance before pulling him out of his jeans, her eyes a bit wide as she spit into her other hand and gave a few experimental pulls.

“You definitely are bigger than you were in those pictures I saw on the Internet last year,” she said wickedly, and then she took him into her mouth.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lol yeah


End file.
